


Typical

by Xyl_3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyl_3/pseuds/Xyl_3
Summary: Cinderella fusion AU where the prince isn't all that charming, the [step]family is more vexing than evil, and the star of the show never quite makes it to the ball.





	1. I. Choose Your Prince

**Author's Note:**

> AU description: Harry may or may not be the boy who lived. (He's rich either way, and the Potters were a noble family, I think. Plus, Quidditch star.) There's no particular Death Eater taint to families, and whether or not Voldemort existed, he definitely never came back. Hogwarts Houses are each their own institutions, and the inter-house rivalries are now school rivalries.

Percy loved his family, but he'd never fit in at home and he didn't understand them any better than they understood him. It was like they were always at cross purposes. His father had a _reputation_ at the Ministry, which Percy wanted to run someday. He'd wanted to be his own person at Hogwarts, but he'd just been Bill and Charlie's little brother. He's been tasked with maintaining order at the school and the twins had made it their personal mission to cause constant chaos. Percy wanted perfect marks and it was a miracle Ron hadn't failed out or been expelled yet.

He didn't fit, and as they tried to make him more like what a Weasley should be, Percy just felt broken. The only thing he knew to do about it was double down and work harder, even if it just widened the gap between them.

*

Ginny had set her sights on Harry Potter back when she was young, but until the boy succumbed to her affections she wasn't about to stop looking entirely. Percy thought this was rather sensible of her, really. It was always good to have a backup plan and while Percy would have preferred Ginny's ambitions to lie in a more self-sustained direction, he didn't fault her for prioritizing money over entirely romantic notions. Percy himself would rather do a job that paid well than follow his passion to an underpaying job, and he saw no reason marriage should be any different.

Marcus Flint was a little old for Ginny, but he was a famous Quidditch star in addition to being old money. Professional Quidditch was played with quite dense helmets these days - compliments of a muggleborn Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sport replacing Ludo Bagman - and Flint wasn't in the papers the way Oliver Wood constantly was. (Flash bastard, Percy thought fondly.) As such, there were only the few official photos available through the Quidditch League's Press releases and information mailers, showing a huge and handsome man in a very flattering Quidditch robes brooding out at the pitch or staring intensely out from the page. (Quidditch robes, like dueling robes, were cut so that the legs were completely on display for optimal range of motion and Marcus Flint had _very_ impressive legs.) The player profiles supplied most of the personal information that was known about him: height, weight, age, position, former school, favorite color, and patronus. 

It made him mysterious, and the girls (and boys) who chased after the stars liked mystery. Perhaps _they_ could be the ones to uncover all of whomever's secrets.

Ginny was rather jaded about that aspect of things, having grown up with a few famous people herself, but while the lure of discovering secrets was for star-chasers, there was a certain sense of prerogative that came from _not_ being starstruck. Ginny was already part of the club so many others were waiting to get into, and Flint (or anyone else) simply needed to realize she was on the level.

As such, Ginny headed to the ball confident and unconcerned. She wasn't desperate, but obviously she would be given the chance to make a match.

*

Percy frowned as the family clock tipped Ginny's name from Out to Muddled. Ginny was no lightweight and she seldom got sloshed at one of these types of parties, but clearly she had overindulged tonight and would be needing an escort home. The clock would have tipped into Danger if anything untoward were responsible and she needed saving, but traveling while inebriated was never a good idea for wizards. 

Percy had been tasked with watching the clock tonight since he was the only one without a scheduled conflict. Percy wouldn't call his evening spare time, exactly, but his work could be done in front of the clock. His mother hated to have one of the children - especially her baby girl - out alone with strangers without someone keeping watch. He didn't want anything to happen to Ginny either, of course, but he resented that her going to a party was deemed more important than his plans. Sure, this could make Ginny's future, but the quality of his work now could make or break Percy's own future. He would never be Minister of Magic if he dropped everything every time one of his siblings wanted to socialize.

Percy sighed and put his work away. He likely wouldn't finish it tonight due to this interruption, which would mean an even longer day tomorrow. He checked the coordinates for the party and apparated to the ball's location. Ginny likely wouldn't be leaving the party right away, but Percy would need to be there whenever she did.

*

Percy had never been fond of extravagant parties and had no intention of entering this one in his street clothes. He found a lovely little bench outside and wished he'd brought his paperwork as he looked out into the gardens.

"Escaping that disaster?" asked a man in the shadow of a building.

Percy jumped in surprise. "No, I need to catch my sister on her way out." He tried a small, self-deprecating smile and gestured down at himself, plain in his work robes. "I'm hardly dressed for a party."

There was a snort and the man approached. "Not a fan of Flint, then? After tonight neither are most of them, I'd reckon."

Percy frowned in worry. "It's nothing I need to worry about, is it? My sister's fairly formidable, but I'm afraid she may have overindulged a bit."

The man smiled comfortingly, even if it looked slightly sinister on his face. He was tall and thick, with arms like tree trunks and a face that would look most at home in one of Knockturn's dark alleys. "Nothing dangerous," he promised, "just a lot of shattered expectations. They all thought they'd meet some handsome prince who'd sweep them off their feet and instead they got the Troll."

"The what?" Percy asked, wondering if that was some new slang term he hadn't learned.

"That's his nickname in the League, the Troll. As in: 'Face like a troll and the personality to match.'"

"What a charming sport," Percy remarked dryly.

The man laughed. "Not a fan of Flint, not a fan of Quidditch, not a fan of parties," he peered at Percy who nodded his confirmation of the last. "What is it you do like, besides looking after your sister?"

Percy flushed, used to the accusation of being No-Fun-Percy. "Books," he said promptly. "Accomplishing things. Intelligent debate. Being taken seriously." He was waiting for the usual response of "Boring things" but it didn't come.

"Ah, an intellectual," the man nodded. "Smart _and_ sweet."

Percy blushed furiously. "I would hardly say-"

"You're out here waiting on your sister to get done drowning her sorrows instead of dragging her out by the ear or leaving her to fend for herself. You've indulged me in conversation and you didn't even point out that my face had no room to talk about Marcus Flint's."

"I would never!" Percy exclaimed in horror at the sheer _rudeness_.

"Like I said," he grinned (leered), teeth jutting out of his mouth, "Sweet."

Percy didn't hate being a redhead, exactly, but he might had preferred a color that didn't immediately identify him as a Weasley to anyone who'd ever met one or a complexion that didn't display his every emotion in livid color along his face. The latter was this moment's burden and he was almost glad to see his charge leaving the ball. It wasn't often he got so much of someone's undivided attention and it was as unsettling as it was pleasant.

"Excuse me, I must be off," Percy excused himself abruptly. "It seems my sister is leaving." He nodded to the man and strode off quickly towards Ginny, who showed every intention of trying to get herself home. And to think, his sister was one of his more sensible siblings! Percy would never hear the end of it if she splinched herself or stumbled out of the wrong floo because he was talking to some stranger in a garden instead of watching out for her.

 

~~~


	2. If the shoe fits (but it doesn't, obviously)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this so many times that I had to add a chapter, but my "outline" of this story is just the three chapter names and this one never got around to  
> II. Ollie is definitely someone's fairy godmother  
> so. Next time?

If Marcus Flint did not shut up about the gorgeous bloke he met at the terrible party his parents threw him, Oliver was going to forget they were on the same team now and revert back to trying to murder the man. Maybe Oliver could convince one of the Beaters to aim for Flint's head. He couldn't be the only one who was tired of listening to this shit. 

He was just so _nice_ , and _handsome_ , and _smart_ , and they had nothing in common and Marcus hadn't even gotten his _name_.

...On second thought, maybe it would be easier to take a Bludger to his own head and just not have to hear it.

To be fair, Flint wasn't normally besotted. They'd asked about the party hoping to hear another of his hilarious sob stories about what a disaster it had been. When he'd mentioned meeting someone, they'd pressed it. There'd just been _no warning_ it was going to turn into an ode to the mystery man of his dreams.

*

The team had gotten invested in Flint's crush, mostly out of self-preservation. It very quickly became apparent that Flint was not going to forget about his mystery man, so if they wanted any other conversation topics in the foreseeable future, they were going to have to help out.

Oliver hadn't been part of the first wave to get excited about it, both because he wasn't much of a romantic and because it was _Flint_ , but he'd succumbed pretty quickly once it became a team activity.

Oliver had laughed when he heard the man in question was a redhead. "If we can't find him, I know six other ones he could try out," he'd offered. "Seven if you're flexible on gender."

Flint had scowled, because no one was a substitute for his crush (and partly because it was Oliver; their antagonistic relationship went both ways) but some of the others had laughed and clapped him on the back.

"Plan B, eh?" Aditya, one of the reserve Beaters had joked.

Trying to figure out who had attended the party had been a non-starter. While most parties had guest lists, Flint's parents' agenda caused them to open their parties to all. They put notices in the papers and after the first few failed to land Flint in a relationship, they'd stopped even questioning suitability, beyond putting a simple age charm on the door.

Flint's parties became unofficially known as a good place for free food and a generous bar, and nearly all the team had crashed a few of them when they had nothing better going on. Unfortunately for Flint, what that meant was that the guests were numerous, drunk, and functionally anonymous.

Eventually, they'd put out an ad looking for the bloke. They'd put it in all the same places that the party announcements had been; sure that the man would have to see one of them.

They'd been kind of vague in their ad. Part of it was that they'd all had encounters with particularly obsessive fans and knew to keep some things private, but mostly it was that they couldn't possibly have to do a lot of narrowing down. Flint wasn't a flirt the way Oliver was (nor was he _pleasant_ the way Oliver was) so moments where Marcus called "[them] 'sweet' and [they] blushed nearly as red as [their] hair" (a near direct quote from Marcus's gushing they decided to use in the ad, minus gender) had to be incredibly rare. In the garden at this particular party, they were expecting a mere handful of people total, which would be quick and easy to wade through while still maintaining a bit of privacy.

***

Marcus Flint's Mystery Date started as a bunch of ads but was quickly picked up as a popular story. The Quidditch press talked about it because Flint was a player that seldom had good press points and they wanted to milk it for all it was worth. Gossip mags and society pages were atwitter over the romance and mystique of it all. Opinion pieces ran in the Daily Prophet about love, anonymity, and fame. Even the Quibbler had done a piece on it, although it had focused on changelings, faeries, and which sorts of creatures couldn't cross into a new day.

Marcus had been pessimistic about their idea, but the team initially took the level of interest as proof that they were brilliant. It would be near impossible for the man to simply overlook the commotion and while Flint wasn't everyone's cup of tea, he had plenty of practice telling what someone who was uninterested in or scared of him looked like. Mystery Man hadn't been either of those things and Flint _was_ a catch on paper, so surely he would show up once he knew the impression he'd made.

Oliver had thought that everyone who cared to know _must_ know what Flint was like by now, but people came out of the woodwork to claim they were The One For Flint. Instead of the ad signaling to the masses that Flint was taking himself off the market, they seemed to take it as him being desperate. It was like the early days of the balls, only worse because people were sure they would be offered his fame and fortune the minute he thought they were the one.

It was absolutely unreasonable to consider, except that Oliver _wasn't_ completely sure Flint wasn't going to propose the minute he laid eyes on the man. All of this hype was actually making the situation worse, because it reminded Flint (and all of them, really) how disappointing people were.

****

Ginny Weasley responding to their ad was quite the surprise. Firstly, Oliver had never known Ginny to blush in anything but rage except around Harry Potter. Secondly, since they knew she wasn't the man of Flint's dreams, Oliver was surprised she would bother trying it. Thirdly, she was Ginny, so when she had the chance to speak to Flint, she didn't actually try to lie to him.

"Obviously we're not interested in each other or else one of us would have tried it on at the party," she stated bluntly.

Oliver probably should have expected that from Ginny, but Flint rolled with it fairly well, with only a slight snarl at her for wasting his time.

"I was at that party and I have the right color hair so one of my classmates suggested I come to you saying it was me in hopes of making Harry jealous enough to pull his head out of his arse. I'm not going to try to trick you into it, obviously, but I thought I'd offer. I can try to help you find your actual love interest while you help me. We'd put a time limit on it, maybe a month? I have no interest in accidentally marrying you because Harry Potter is the world's biggest tosser."

"Well," Christian, their rookie Chaser breathed, "I think _I'm_ in love."

Ginny shot a smirk at him but immediately turned her attention to Flint. "Well?"

Flint was squinting hard at her. 'You have brothers, don't you?"

"Yeah, a bunch. You played against Fred and George back in school. They were on a team with this one," she motioned to Oliver. "And maybe Charlie too?"

"Take me to meet all your brothers and we have a deal."

 

**~~~~~~~~**

 

Ginny Weasley was as good as her word. They didn't announce that Marcus was taken or had stopped searching, but they left the people answering the ads to be vetted and dealt with by the team and Ginny quietly started bringing Marcus around. He was pretty confident that all of Gryffindor thought they were dating but word didn't spread far beyond that.

Taking Marcus home accomplished two objectives: Since Harry Potter was basically already a member of the Weasley clan, he had plenty of opportunity to see them together and get jealous, and her brothers were there. Her brother's faces were **hilarious** , especially the twins, who he _did_ remember now that he saw them again, the nasty little buggers. Every time they went by the Burrow, there seemed to be a new (horrified) face, all of them red-haired and nearly all male, but none of them the face he had secretly been hoping to find.

It had been a long shot, but he'd seen just enough of the sister to know she'd also had red hair. Ginny had been at the party and she had brothers, making her a better lead than counting on a man who hated Quidditch, gossip, and parties to put together the pieces and realize he'd been getting hit on by Marcus Flint. Even more, Marcus wasn't sure he'd made a good enough impression in those few moments, and hoped mostly for a chance to woo him properly, not for him to have also felt a spark.

The anonymity in the garden had felt magical, but in hindsight it was terribly inconvenient. Even though he felt he had some understanding of the man's character, he had no guesses as to his name, age, profession, or whereabouts. Ginny Weasley's sprawling clan had felt like his best lead, but with every visit he found his hopes dwindling. He didn't _need_ to settle down, not even for his parents' sake, but he felt a void as sharp and haunting as a blowout loss at the idea of missing his chance to genuinely fall for someone.

*

**Author's Note:**

> This is very far down on the list of what I was/am planning on working on, so I will probably not post more for a billion years. Fair warning.


End file.
